The Injured Husband
by Thyme In Her Eyes
Summary: Bram Stoker's Dracula: Jonathan's troubled thoughts, as he lets Mina go and wonders if she'll ever return to him.


The Injured Husband

by Thyme In Her Eyes

_Author's Note:_ As usual, this story is based on the movie _Bram Stoker's Dracula _(which I own no rights to). Unusually, here's a little sympathy for Jonathan now. This is set after the film's conclusion. Enjoy, and remember that all feedback is appreciated.

**-- THE INJURED HUSBAND --**

"_Our work is finished here," _he entreated, as a grim understanding settled over him. _"Hers has just begun."_

And so he let his wife go, and the moment the great doors of the castle groaned and closed, sealing Mina and the Count in a dark world of their own, Jonathan realized that she would never come back to him. That no matter what took place within those awful walls, he would never see her again.

Instead of restoring things to the way they once were, pursuing and destroying the Count had ensured that nothing could ever again be as it was, least of all between Mina and himself. All that had gone awry could never be corrected now, and all there was to do was accept. He was certainly not alone in his secret troubles. In spite of their victory, he sensed that each member of their small band would carry their share of sorrows and regrets from this day on. None were spared, least of all Mina herself.

She had changed in ways so momentous that Jonathan could scarcely believe it, and was at a loss to understand how he could have failed to notice it until that crucial moment when she finally knew where her loyalties lay. As she confronted him, he had realized with an awful pang of loss that he had felt closer to her when gazing at her photograph so many months ago. The real and breathing woman who had stood before him – hair wild and disheveled, brow scarred, posture firm and unwavering, eyes desperate and livid and gazing upon him as though he were a mortal enemy – had seemed like a stranger to him and infinitely more distant than the frozen and colourless image he had so adored. She was his wife and he loved her, but he did not know her. And then she was gone, and Jonathan stood alone in the snow.

He had felt all that took place next; felt the instant when the Count died and the curse passed away. It was subtle yet tremendous, and Jonathan could not understand how the others failed to note it, even in their grief. The castle itself transformed – instead of the personification of Dracula's will and malevolence, it became an arrangement of bricks and all sense of atmosphere fled the place. Jonathan looked upon the the castle and, for the first time, it was not a place of palpable evil or an almost-living entity, another one of the Count's servants set to entrap Jonathan and bend him to its awful will. It was no longer a scene of horror, where nightmares lived and walked, where staircases moved and guided him to new abominations, statues stalked him, and soft laughter curled like talons, where shadows tore at his form, fixtures reached for him, and walls closed in; caging him in a prison of fear and then mocking his blind and frantic terror. All these things were lifted from the castle, leaving a crumbling part of history behind. Now, it was only an old ruin, like so many others. This revelation settled over him quietly and firmly, offering a measure of tranquility and lending him greater resolve to walk away from the waking nightmare of the past months.

He waited and kept a loyal vigil outside the castle doors, and Mina finally returned. Joy rushed through him to see her alive and well, and rose even higher when he realized that her forehead was as white and pure as the falling snow. Then it fell again and twisted awkwardly when he saw the look in her eyes – eyes which were so much deeper and wiser than he had ever noticed. She was full of grief and courage, and a strange serenity surrounded her, lending her features a light that shone proudly and valiantly through the tears on her face. She had smiled gently at him, and Jonathan felt no closer to her than he did to the madwoman threatening his life. It made him proud to see such strength in her and to know what she had done to gain it, but it dismayed him to see resolve much like his own there too, and know that her resolve was to live, but not with him. She could never again be the sweet and proper Mina he had left behind in May, and at last he understood this as well as she had.

It was no surprise to him to later find a letter waiting for him with Van Helsing, and Mina quite vanished before they could find a chance to talk. Jonathan could not bring himself to read it, already understanding what its contents would be. She was gone, had wandered alone and strong into the world, and all he had left of her were those few warm words he could not stand to look at.

He waited for bitterness to grasp him, but it never came. There was only a soft sadness as Jonathan mourned a woman who still lived, yet was dead to him, and he wished for her happiness. The image of the drying tears on her face haunted him, forcing him to admit that perhaps her joy and peace was more richly deserved than his own.

It was something to do with the way the Count had looked at Mina's picture like a man enraptured, and why many parts of the castle guarded ancient images of a young and beautiful woman with long black hair and dark, intelligent and kind eyes. It was something the Professor appeared to understand, but Jonathan dared venture no closer to it.

Instead, he remained stalwart, showed the best courage, and preserved his dignity. He rejoined the others, good-naturedly ignoring their silent, supportive sympathy and pretending that there was nothing to pity. Jonathan smiled, attempting to let release from the long nightmare find and restore him. He even shared a hearty glass of sherry and made a toast to Quincey's memory, and to the courage and nobility of his sacrifice.

It was Jack Seward who tentatively offered a toast to Mina. Jonathan gave a tight, pained smile and a slow nod as the men all raised their glasses to her and wished her well, speaking prayers for her future. It was as close to confession as anyone dared go.

Silently, Jonathan summoned up all his courage and generosity in order to spare a thought for the Count too. It was Mina who first expressed pity for the monster, and Jonathan could only wonder how different things might have been if only he had listened to her, and to all else she was trying to tell him behind those words. Pouring another glass of sherry and then staring at it, robbed of all will to drink it, Jonathan spoke one final toast in his mind for the creature he had hated and feared, and Mina had loved.

_May his soul find peace, _Jonathan thought. _For I doubt mine ever will._

**-- FIN --**


End file.
